Arrow of War, a Black and Blue story
by Orion Lyonesse
Summary: When the rebel base they were approaching is destroyed before their eyes, Avon leads Vila on a hazardous trek that could cost them both their lives. Avon/Vila
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I don't own any of these Blake's Seven characters, but I do enjoy messing with them._

_"Who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow?_

_Who else is gonna bring you a bottle of wine?_

_……..Rod Stewart_

The corridor was silent and empty outside Avon's room. I wondered what my reception would be. Avon was newly out of Liberator's medical unit, over Cally's protest. He would recuperate in his own room, thank you very much, not the sterile med unit. Besides, he wanted his privacy, with nobody poking his nose in every few minutes to see how he was!

And here I stood, doing just that.

Not that I felt so good either. Our "adventure" had left us both much the worse for wear, though Avon admittedly got the worst of it.

The landscape we teleported into was parched desert, just over a rise from our destination, a rebel base and possible alliance. Our beam down was a hit-and-run thing for the Liberator. Come in fast, make contact, beam us down nearby, leave fast. The Federation was too close on our heels to linger over niceties.

But it all went wrong. Shortly after our "down and safe," all hell broke loose. We never really saw the base, just dirt and debris flying through the air, and the blackened crater left behind by a Federation raid.

Avon's solution was to walk to the next rebel base in the string that we knew of. To my protests he turned a cold eye. We couldn't contact either our own ship or the rebel base, not could we wait around for an all too likely Federation mop up squad.

So we walked.

It wasn't too bad at first. The twilight was comfortably cool and lit for awhile. The barren desert didn't impede us. Of course, talking wasn't one of Avon's hobbies, so, after awhile, I was silent too.

At full dark we stopped, built a small fire for warmth and company, and prepared to spend an uncomfortable night.

It was really rather pleasant at first, except for my stomach's occasional grumbling. Avon kept his own company of course, just staring into the fire. We knew there wasn't any wildlife to worry about, aside from man. We should have set watches, I suppose, just in case our small fire attracted anyone, but I guess we were just too tired to think straight.

As the temperature dropped, though, and our immediate supply of things to burn was used up, we found a need for warmth. As the last of the fire died away and the cold took over, we each curled up as best we could to sleep.

After a time, reluctantly, I cleared my throat and asked, "Avon, you cold?"

His low voice came out of the darkness, "I've been warmer."

"Do you suppose we could, you know, snuggle up? For warmth like?" I didn't really expect a positive response. To my surprise, I heard a rustling and crunching, then felt Avon cozying up to my backside. I sighed as his warmth hit my back and his arms folded around me.

"Better?" he whispered in my ear.

"Oh yeah," I replied. Shortly, we both slept.

It was just graying on the horizon when Avon woke me.

"We've got to get moving," he said, as we stretched stiffened muscles and brushed odds and ends of the landscape off our clothes. "We'll have to make our marches at the beginning and end of the day, then hole up during the hot part of the day."

"Thanks," I said, staring into Avon's eyes.

"For what?"

"You know, spooning last night. It was like old times, almost," I replied.

"Well, it made sense at the time," he said dismissively. "Let's get moving." And he started off, following the beacon signal to the rebel base.

As before, we walked in silence. I didn't know what was occupying Avon's thoughts, but I was remembering a time when we were much closer, before Blake disappeared and everything began to come apart.

Almost from the start, Avon and I'd been lovers. At first, I think it was purely a physical thing—need and response. But it had gradually developed into something more. Avon and I of course didn't discuss it. It just…happened. He still treated me like a Delta in front of the crew, but, on raids or in dangerous situations or in bed, it was a different Avon and Vila. I came to depend on Avon, 'cause I knew I'd always be safe with him.

Then Star One changed everything. It became an obsession with Blake and a major source of tension among the crew. Even Avon and I were at each other's throats. Finally it got to be just too much, and he ordered me out of his bed—forever!

I knew I still loved him, but that ice and fire façade allowed me no openings to apologize, to reclaim my place with him. And things just got worse after Blake was lost and Tarrant came. Dayna was OK and fun to be around, but Tarrant! With his obvious Alpha class arrogance, he wouldn't take anything from anyone. He was always lording it over me, pushing me, deriding me, and Avon mostly let him. That's what hurt most—having him coldly watch what Tarrant did to me.

When Avon commanded me to come along on this mission, I figured he'd want locks picked, but I hoped I could find some way to heal the breach between us.

Walking in silence began to wear on my nerves. I was tired, hungry, thirsty, and alone. All I could do anything about was being alone.

My boot kicked up something in the sand. I bent to pick it up and found a long thin piece of wood with a sharp triangle of metal on one end and ratty looking feathers on the other.

"Avon, look what I found. What's this, do you suppose?"

Avon slowed and turned. Taking the thing out of my hands, he turned it over curiously, then handed it back to me.

"It's an arrow. I saw Dayna use a bow and arrow on Sarran and once I saw one in a museum when I was young. A people called Indians used them long ago on Earth to hunt with. It's a projectile, like a bullet," he lectured. "I remember they also used it as a symbol. If one group of Indians wanted to declare war on another, they sent one of these, broken in half, to the other group." With that, he lost interest, turned, and walked on.

Scavenger that I am, I tucked the arrow into my belt and followed.

We walked on endlessly, it felt like. The sun grew hotter and the landscape began to shimmer around us. I was glad I'd chosen a light colored outfit for the mission, but couldn't see how Avon was coping with the sun in his usual black clothing.

Just as I thought I couldn't go any further, we topped a rise and saw a small sheltered valley below us. The rocks piled there would give us shade, anyway, even though there was unlikely to be water.

As we descended into the bowl, something felt…wrong. Then I had it: there was no sound in the area. I mean, there'd been distant bird calls, strange rustling and cracklings everywhere since we teleported down. We'd gotten used to them and no longer heard them consciously, but their absence was now loud as thunder to me.

I think Avon must have noticed too, because he was looking around suspiciously when the attack came.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I don't own any of these Blake's Seven characters, but I do enjoy messing with them._

_"Who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow?_

_Who else is gonna bring you a bottle of wine?_

_……..Rod Stewart_

Something big snaked out of the sand near the base of the sheltering rocks and grabbed Avon's ankle and yanked. He let out a startled yelp and reached for his weapon, but it went flying beyond his reach into the rocks. I pulled my gun, but didn't dare fire for fear of hitting Avon.

As I rushed to Avon's aide, the thing's tentacles began to drag Avon toward a gaping maw filled with teeth yawning up from the sand with a roar. Casting about for some other weapon, my hand encountered the arrow. I grabbed it and began to stab at the monster's head and tentacles. Avon continued to struggle with the tentacle wrapped around his leg, but he seemed to be moving in slow motion, somehow. Desperation gave me a strength I didn't know I possessed as I repeatedly drove the arrow into the soft parts of the beast's head and wrenched it out again. Finally, with a groan, the head dropped back into the sand and the tentacles snaked away, leaving Avon lying silent and bloodied on the hot ground.

I dragged Avon's unconscious body up the rise and out of the valley before I flopped down and drew Avon's head into my lap and held him like I was drowning.

"Avon? Avon, speak to me! Are you all right?" I cried, desperate for a word, a movement, even a sarcastic remark! After a time, a groan answered me, and his eyes opened. They were fogged with pain and he seemed disoriented.

"What happened?" he asked groggily. His face was flushed and his breathing was rapid, like he was still fighting that creature. His eyes still hadn't focused on me.

"There was some monster lurking in the rocks of that valley. It almost got you, but I stabbed it with that arrow I found and it went away," I babbled, relieved beyond caring what he thought of me, glad just to hear his voice again. I looked down and was surprised to find the arrow lying on the ground near Avon. I must have clutched it as well as Avon when I dragged him up the hill.

I showed it to Avon, but he didn't seem interested. His eyes wandered, searching for something, I didn't know what.

I asked, "Avon, what can I do for you?"

He seemed to really see me for the first time. "Why, are you taking orders?" he asked slowly, frowning.

Buoyed up by this hopeful sign, I clowned, "Sure. What can I get you? Anything your heart desires."

He thought for a moment, then replied, "I think I'd like a bottle of wine, chilled properly, in a crystal goblet, served by an attentive waiter, in a dim room."

Well, what could I say to that? "Of course. Coming right up, sir!" I answered flippantly, saluting him with one finger to my brow.

He didn't hear me. He'd passed out again.

Now what? I thought disconsolately. I looked up from his still form, trying to formulate a plan to get him to medical help and us both the hell off this planet, when a shadow fell over us. Fearing another unknown monster out for a snack, I desperately fumbled about for my gun, scrambling to rise. Then I heard voices calling our names, identifying themselves as the rebels we sought.

Two rugged-looking men came toward us, asking what happened, bustling around and carrying Avon to their scout craft. I started to follow, then turned, picking up the magic arrow. It fell into two pieces as I picked it up, but I stuck the pieces into my belt anyway and hurried to catch up with them.

The rebels treated Avon and me, and contacted the Liberator for pickup. They said that, by some stroke of luck, they'd been in contact with the destroyed base at the time of the attack, and knew we were expected but hadn't arrived yet. When communications were interrupted, they'd mounted a rescue expedition to the base. On speculation that we were still alive and headed toward them, they'd searched the trails, finding us just a little too late to save Avon from our run-in with the rock lurker, one of the very few left in the region.

Now that we were back safe aboard the Liberator, Tarrant could take over negotiations and let Avon recuperate from the poisons the creature used to subdue its prey and from the dehydration and exhaustion of the whole adventure.

Screwing up my courage, I knocked.

"Come," a tired voice answered with resignation, as the door swished open. The room was cool and dimly lit and full of shadows. The one on the bed stirred, then stilled.

"What…?"

"It's just me, Avon, with your order." I rushed in on his words, before I lost my nerve and retreated, like so many times in the past.

"My order?" came from the bed.

"Your bottle of wine, properly chilled, served in a crystal goblet, of course. For starters," I replied cheerily, as I set the bed tray across his lap. It tipped a bit as he sat up, but the wine bottle in its ice bucket and the crystal goblet stayed put, all right.

"Oh," was the neutral reply.

"And I've brought you something to fix, to occupy yourself till you're up and around again." That got his attention. He was never happier than when he had a puzzle to solve or piece of electronics to whip into shape.

He brought up the light.

After waiting expectantly a moment, he asked impatiently, "Well?".

"Oh. Here." I laid my peace offering on the tray.

The arrow's two pieces lay there, the burgundy napkin a dark pool like blood behind it.

He reached tentatively to touch them, but stopped, his hand suspended, as he turned his dark eyes to me.

"Wha…What am I supposed to do with these?" he whispered, a faint flare of something in his eyes.

"Fix them?" I replied, trying to keep my hopes from spilling out too blatantly. "I can pick any lock and you can fix anything. Make the arrow whole again, Avon, I don't want to war with you anymore." Then I waited.

His hand delicately touched the pieces. He tried fitting the broken ends together, but there was too much damage for the ends to seat well.

Holding the parts together, he looked up again, and I saw that the flare had become a fire in those once-shadowed eyes.

"I'm afraid it's hopeless, Vila. However," and a smile tugged at his lips, "I think we can consider them mended, just the same."

He dropped my offering on the tray and handed the tray to me. When I took it, looking at him stupidly, I'm sure, he patted the bed beside him.

"Do you mean I'm forgiven?" My voice cracked, betraying me.

"Of course, you idiot. Who else would bring me a broken arrow and a bottle of wine? Now come to bed. We're still much too tired to be up and about. I suggest we recuperate together."

"That may take longer," I said, shedding my clothes and sliding in beside him.

"Well, now, I think we've earned it," he answered, as we spooned carefully together. Shortly, his breathing told me he was asleep. I sighed, snuggling closer to his back and shifted my arm around his waist, my thoughts on "recuperation."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed my toying with Avon and Vila. If so, please review!


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